


Pass the message

by drelfina



Category: Naruto
Genre: Founders Era, M/M, all of them suffer the sins of their fathers, and bonus Uchiha Izuna trauma, hints of Uchiha Tajima/Senju Tobirama, is this really the only fic of this pairing?, neither uchiha madara nor Senju Tobirama wanted to be messengers here, senju butsuma is very unhappy, technically it might not be underage but Madara's age is nebulous so who knows i'm being safe here, uchiha madara is extra unhappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: Butsuma did not like the message Tajima sent him.He sends one back.Madara is just the unfortunate messenger.A vague riff/response/inspired by CreativeSweet's fic chapterMessage. No one's happy about it.
Relationships: Senju Butsuma/Uchiha Izuna, Senju Butsuma/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 77
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perelka_L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perelka_L/gifts), [CreativeSweets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeSweets/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Darker Than Ebony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21058829) by [CreativeSweets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeSweets/pseuds/CreativeSweets). 

> A gift for Perelka_L 
> 
> Is this really the only fic in the archive with that pairing?

"No," Madara said, trying to get enough breath to just - just breathe FIRE into the man's face. 

But he just tightened his hand in Madara's hair, twisting and pulling his head back hard enough, far back enough, that Madara just COULDN"T, not with the way he was bent back, over the stone , far and far enough he could barely INHALE to clear the spots in front of his eyes let alone get enough proper bright air to breathe FIRE. 

"hmm," Senju Butsuma said, nudging the knife against the collar of Madara's shirt. "No?"

The tip easily parted the collar with that slightest pressure, and the Senju clan head smiled down at Madara, somehow... grim. Stern. Where his oldest son was bright and happy like the sun, and that bitch of a weirdo younger brother was icy like snow, Butsuma looked like carved rock, implaccable. 

Immovable. 

"No," Madara hissed, as vicious as he could muster. "Get your hands off me."

Unlike his own father, who at least would SMILE, maybe, something Madara could READ, something - anything - madara could get some leverage through - Butsuma didn't seem at all moved, touched, by anything Madara could spit or snarl at him. 

Just kept cutting his shirt open, while Madara clawed at his hand - 

Somehow Butsuma had tangled - and tied madara's hands TO his own hair; probably from slamming him through a bush and while Butsuma had no mokuton, hashirama had SAID so, apparently all senju trained enough with these - these creepy bastard trees and Hashirama enough to use the environment LIKE THAT, like WEAPONS and all madara could do was kick futilely until he realised that Butsuma wasn't going to stop cutting his shirt down, down, over his GUT and if he didn't stop twisting he was going to fucking gut himself.

Fucking Senju and their fucking forest _affinity_. 

"Hn," Butsuma said, and then he flicked his knife to the side, and Madara's shirt just… fell open. 

Madara swallowed, hard, watching the tip of that knife glint. It wasn't a kunai - no, that was too low-end, too _common_ for the Senju Head, wasn't it? This was his own personal _knife_, light glinting across the ripples over its blade, not just decorative but far more ostentatious than a mere kunai. 

Maybe he should be flattered, that the Senju head was going to kill him with his own personal knife - some sort of honour maybe his own Father would at least be assuaged by. Somewhat. 

But he didn't want to die. 

Butsuma glanced up at him, eyes dark brown like the earth - and then the knife bit down on Madara's pants ties. 

"Uchiha Madara," Butsuma said, even and cool as the earth, "I have a message for your father." 

Which meant… he wasn't going to die. That. That was good, wasn't it? 

"What is it?" Madara said, and didn't point out that he didn't have to cut his shirt open for that - unless Butsuma intended to carve it on his belly - and possibly STILL leave him to die slowly. 

(Maybe that was worse.) 

"You will personally convey it," Butsuma said, and then he flipped Madara over, onto his face, and for one glorious moment, Madara could inhale properly, and if he had the speed, maybe he would have twisted out of the man's hold - 

But then Butsuma ground his face down into the dirt instead; if Madara wasted his precious air on fire, all that would do would burn _himself_. 

Madara coughed into the dirt, barely managing to push his head back up a little, wincing at the way his hair - dragged, pulled SOMEWHERE. "I do not have to be - involved -" 

Butsuma shoved his head back down, and leaned his whole body against Madara's back, and it was a stone, a weight crushing the air out of his lungs. "Your father involved my _son_," Butsuma said, voice a low, vicious growl against his ear, dark and suddenly cruel after the emotionless _nothing_ from earlier. "I am merely evening the score." 

Then suddenly Madara could just about feel his pants being yanked down. 

Oh. 

Oh NO. 

Madara was grateful, just then, that he was tasting dirt, choking on earth when that sharp, thick _push_ into him punched all rational thought out.

* * *

Butsuma didn't say much, during. It wasn't much of a message - or maybe it was entirely too _much_ of one. Madara couldn't even get his mind to push thoughts together. It was all just pain, sparks, his hands and feet trying to curl, claw at something, anything, but his hair trapped his hands, his legs were… useless. Because of his position, and the worst part was that he had been _early_ on this mission. 

There was no way anyone of his Clan would think to come looking for him for at least a _day_, and realistically he'd have to be a day _late_ before his absence might warrant a messenger. 

At least… at least Madara didn't shame himself with crying. He couldn't; and if there were tears, it ground out in the dirt under his cheeks, smearing his face and hiding the worst of his lack of control there, as he breathed out with each thick _thrust_ into him. 

It hurt. 

It hurt until it was suddenly _over_, and he couldn't quite feel his legs. And then … 

There was a knife at his nape - a sharp rasp… 

And his hands were suddenly free, because the knife had sliced his hair away.

* * *

The boy was basically sobbing, Butsuma thought as he pulled away, cleaned himself up and tucked his clothes back into place. All the fight drained out of him earlier - it was the same with all Uchiha; the last thing to go was always their words. 

He might feel a bit sorry for the kid, but ...

Seeing how the heir of the Uchiha Clan curled his hands down, under him, his shorn hair like a sheep, all Butsuma could think was _Tajima_. 

Tajima who had had no mercy, not for a child even smaller, even more fragile than this. Who had had no such fire to defend himself, who had, after that defilement, had been not even able to defend himself from the dishonour and torture of the scars Tajima had cut into his face. 

The face of Butsuma's _wife_; delicate, pretty, barely had a place on the battlefield, even though Tobirama had been so talented that not even Butsuma could talk himself out of training him and putting him to the field. 

Tajima had had no pity for a child; there was no pity for the Uchiha Heir either. 

"Enjoy a taste of your own hospitality, Uchiha," Butsuma said, coldly, and tossed the remanents of the boy's hair back at him, leaving it to scatter around him like the shattering of pride.

* * *

Madara couldn't make himself move for a full hour after Butsuma's presence faded from his senses. 

He was still early, getting back, early enough that no one questioned him heading straight to his room instead of debriefing with his father. 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a hint here that Butsuma and the rest of the Senju just kinda work a lot with forest or whatever. I just assumed that they trained strongly in using the environment as basically the next weapon - while Uchiha really do focus a bit more on jutsu. Thanks to Hashirama, working a lot more with forested environments became particularly critical for this generation since there's Hashirama who can HELP make Moar Trees/Plants. 
> 
> Poor Madara.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I was so tempted to title this "Take a letter, Maria"


	2. Suffer the Sins of your Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That message never got to Tajima. 
> 
> SO Butsuma tried again.

He looked a lot like Tajima. 

Same slender limbs, the same graceful arch of his neck, wide-eyes in pale Uchiha face. 

Even his hair fell about his face much the same way as it had, before, in those days ago when Tajima and Butsuma were not much older than this.

He struggled a lot more than Madara had - but he tired faster too, and now he was crying, little noises that he couldn't even stop, and his pale cheeks flushed ruddy with humiliation that he couldn't hide it. 

Unlike his older brother, Uchiha Izuna wouldn't be able to keep this from his father. There wasn't a need to cut his clothes off - just shove things up and aside - it was easy enough, because Izuna was all slender long limbs - 

Like Tajima. 

Like _Tobirama. _

And it had been easy to break those arms with two simple strikes and the Uchiha had been helpless.

Maybe it was better this way - after all, Tajima had targeted his younger son - not his heir. And it had hurt _more_ because Tobirama had been his little beloved son, the same delicate talent as his beloved wife. 

Here, Izuna was Tajima's reflection, and his hitched sobs at each sharp thrust that jostled his useless arms were almost a balm to the smouldering anger in Butsuma's belly.

Butsuma had been even less careful with this one than the Uchiha heir - forcing his way in like it'd reach Tajima from here, that each shocked breath stolen from Izuna's chest would _choke_ Tajima in turn. 

If only it would undo what Tajima had carved into his son's face... 

But Butsuma couldn't undo that - so he could only carve trauma onto each Uchiha body he met, till Tajima got the message.

This time, when he carefully cut the hair from Izuna's sobbing head, he kept the long silky tail. 

It was with grim, terrible gratification, to see Tajima's face go a ghastly pale when he flung it at Tajima's feet the next time they met on the battlefield. 

(Izuna was nowhere to be seen.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that phrase "he could only carve trauma into the bodies of their children" popped into my head and i had to write this as a continuation. :P


End file.
